


The Heart Wants What It Wants

by ettedab



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M, Obsession, Poor Harry, Scorpius is a little shit, Use of potion, and poor draco, his ambition scares the crap out of me lol
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-07
Updated: 2020-04-07
Packaged: 2021-03-02 05:21:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23529850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ettedab/pseuds/ettedab
Summary: The Malfoys only ever had one weakness.And Harry Potter seems to have the same dilemma.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Scorpius Malfoy/Harry Potter
Comments: 5
Kudos: 43





	The Heart Wants What It Wants

**Author's Note:**

> Hi!! Please heed the warnings and tags for this fic. May I remind you that I don’t support the theme of this story just because I wrote it. Continue at your own risk!

“I know what you want.” Scorpius hears himself say out loud, tongue heavy with unaldurated want and the Firewhisky making his words slur a bit. His eyes flicks towards the blazing fireplace on his side, though, just as the full force of the audacity of his words hit him square in the gut.  _ I really said that _ , he thinks frantically.  _ What on earth _ —

But the whirlwind of his thoughts comes to a halt as he hears a sharp intake of breath, followed by the distinct rustle of clothes. Scorpius knows full well how he’d sound like a moment ago, knows without looking that Harry’s adjusting himself in the velvet sofa he’d situated himself in an hour ago. It’s spacious enough for the both of them, but Scorpius had chosen the armchair by the hearth instead. Harry hadn’t commented on that one. Instead he just Summoned a pair of drinking glasses when Scorpius brandished out a bottle of the finest Firewhiskey in the Malfoy Manor.

And Harry had been looking at him the entire time, as if he’s got an inkling of what wandless magic does to Scorpius.

Oh, how Scorpius had wanted him then and there. 

Silence lingers for a moment like a taut string, before it’s snapped apart with Harry’s voice. Scorpius almost smiles triumphantly at the coyness of it. “Do you?” When he doesn’t say anything, Harry speaks again, this time with a hint of steel in his tone. “Look at me when I talk to you.” 

Scorpius couldn’t help it, not when Harry sounds like that; he  _ looks _ . He takes in Harry’s relaxed form, his glass dangling precariously from his fingertips. He’s a picture of a calm, collected man, but the hard set of his jaw sets him off—Scorpius has been with him long enough, had watched him for far too long already, to know Harry’s tells. And those eyes. They’re dark now, the green almost lost in the dilated pupils. 

“Do you really know, Scorpius?” Harry asks him again, his voice low and laced with an undercurrent of something else that he’d never heard Harry had used before. Not on him, anyway. Scorpius doesn’t have to be a Legillimens (but he is, and he is the best on his field) to know the unspoken words hanging delicately between them.  _ You don’t know anything. _

But Scorpius does. Merlin, he  _ does _ know what Harry wants, and Scorpius will give it to him. Whether Harry asks for it or not. 

Scorpius drinks the last of his Firewhiskey before setting it back on the side table. His eyes never stray from Harry’s as he speaks. “I see the way you look at me.” 

This time it’s Harry who looks away, but not before Scorpius catches the stricken expression on his face. Scorpius wants to comfort him; wants to tell him  _ it’s alright, I feel the same way too. Confusion. Shame. Self-hatred. _

_ Desire. _

“This isn’t some twisted game.” Harry’s voice didn’t waver, but he’s still gazing towards the windows and not at him. Dusk had begun to set in, and the fading sunlight highlights the sharp profile of Harry- the angle of his jaw dusted faintly with stubble, the plump curve of his bottom lip, the straight line of his nose. He looks so ruggedly handsome and all the things Scorpius is forbidden to have, and he’s the only one Scorpius had ever wanted. 

And that  _ want _ burns an inferno inside him right now, making him reckless with his words. “I know you see my Father in me.” 

And there it is, Harry’s polite mask slipping from view as he abruptly turns his attention back to him, showing what’s really underneath—a temperamental, tormented man haunted by his inner demons and conflicting emotions. Scorpius shivers in his seat at the sight of it. More than anything else, this is the Harry that he wants. Because it’s real. It’s  _ Harry  _ through and through. “You don’t know what you’re saying.” 

Scorpius takes that as a cue to stand up from his seat. “Then I’ll stop saying it then.” He takes a step forward just as he reaches for the clasp on his robes. “Perhaps it would be better if,” he undoes the clasp, letting the black woolen robes tumble to the ground with a soft thud, “I just show you.” The robes are expensive and had been a gift from his Father’s, but nothing costs more than what will happen next.  _ His everything.  _

“What are you doing?” There’s incredulity evident in Harry’s voice and face, but Scorpius notices that he hasn’t moved an inch from where he’s sitting at. 

“Something I should have done years ago.” Just a few inches more and he’ll be able to close the distance between them. He wonders if Harry could see the anticipation in his face.

“B-but...,” Harry stammers, his face flushing red as he valiantly tries to come up with valid reasons. “You’re my son’s best friend.” He blatantly blanches as he said that. Scorpius could feel an ache in his chest at the mention of his dear friend.  _ He’ll forgive me for this _ , he convinces himself.  _ He doesn’t even have to know.  _ “And I’m too old for you,” Harry adds silently. Those verdant eyes try to pin him in place, flashing like warning signs. 

But Scorpius knows, just as he’s certain that Harry knows too, the inevitability of what will happen next. He stops right in front of Harry, his knees touching the inside of Harry’s thighs. They’re splayed apart, as if inviting him to come closer, and Scorpius could feel how sinewy those muscles are even with clothes on. 

He wants to feel it tense underneath the touch of his hands, wants to push them more apart so he could lean forward and—

He just does all that. He stops wanting and thinking altogether because he can make it all happen, right now. His knees hit the plush carpet with a soft thud, and both his hands reach out to skim the fabric of Harry’s trousers over the inside of his calves. He feels it tense under his touch. He gazes up to see Harry holding his breath and eyes wide with trepidation, and something akin to wonder. Scorpius has to ask now. “Do you remember how you got here,  _ Harry _ ?”

He revels at the fact that it’s the first time he addresses his boss by the first name. It’s always been the formal ‘Head Auror Potter’, whether they’re at work or in formal gatherings like the charity auction his Father had hosted tonight at Malfoy Manor. Harry gets to call him by his given name since the day Albus had introduced them to each other. 

He loves the way  _ Harry _ sounds so soft and breathy and  _ intimate _ . 

He’s answered with a pair of furrowed eyebrows and a confused shrug of shoulders.  _ Good _ , Scorpius thinks with glee. He should be alarmed that he couldn’t feel any trace of guilt in him, but he doesn’t. All that’s in his mind right now is how he ended up kneeling before the man behind his teenage wank fantasies. 

_ But this isn’t fantasy. Right now, it’s real.  _ Scorpius smiles at him reassuringly, and whatever doubt lingering in Harry’s face from his earlier statement disappears, replaced with an answering smile of his own.  _ So it has fully taken effect then. _

Scorpius couldn’t wait any longer. Not when Harry flashes him with that dazzling smile. His hands make a tortuous path upwards, his movements punishingly slow as his eyes roam around Harry’s face, the way he’s biting his lower lip, how those green eyes are also on him, and sometimes on his hands. Like he couldn’t decide which one is better. When Scorpius reaches his upper thighs, he shoves them apart with force, earning a surprised gasp from Harry. 

Scorpius wants to hear it again. 

He scoots closer, and at this point he catches a whiff of Harry’s scent, a heady combination of sandalwood and musk. His right hand cups the hardening shaft in front of him, palming the whole length of it. God, Scorpius feels himself harden. But Harry seizes him on the wrist, stopping him in his ministrations. “Don’t—Scorpius, I—“ 

Scorpius almost pities him right there and then. Harry looks so torn and ashamed. And so out of it already. “Just give in, Harry,” he murmurs quietly. Harry hasn’t made a move to remove his hand yet, so Scorpius squeezes his cock gently, but with enough pressure that makes Harry groan and throw his head back on the couch. Scorpius feels Harry’s hold on him loosen before he lets go completely. 

_ This is it.  _

**Author's Note:**

> So should I continue the smut part? Or is that too much for you guys? Scorpius isn’t underage here btw (now that he works on the Ministry as an auror under Head Auror Harry). 
> 
> And the Draco part will come soon guys ;)
> 
> Tell me your thoughts, I’d love to hear from you <3 and if you wanna suggest some kinks for the smut part, then feel free to comment down below!


End file.
